


Mix

by Apetslife



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC's locked himself in the studio, and he won't come out.  Written for DWNOGA 2002</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mix

It wasn't that he didn't miss the guys, or their familiar production team, or the comforting sameness of the studio in Orlando where Backstreet usually recorded. But there was something exciting about working in LA. Just yesterday he'd almost walked smack into Snoop Dogg when running out to get a soda, and he'd heard Eminem recorded here, and there was a rumor going around the mixing room that Alicia Keys was on the schedule. Today when Nick had arrived, he'd seen a team of bodyguards, as huge and menacing as his own, disappearing out of the July sunshine through the entrance to the long, low building.

He tipped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead and listening to his own recorded voice, wailing out over the speakers. It sounded pretty good, he thought, a little too sweet for the song but Paul had told him that was okay, an artistic jux... something, and he'd agreed to mix in some of the growlier vocals Nick had laid down later, so hopefully it would edge up just a little before they were done. It wasn't supposed to sound like Backstreet. Nick sometimes got sick of reminding everyone of that fact.

Alicia sighed, twanged out a minor chord on her guitar, and got to her feet. "Okay. We've been here eight hours, I've heard this song so many times I'm sure it'll be on my dream soundtrack tonight, and I'm not helping anything. I'm gonna head out." She looked at Nick questioningly, though, and he sighed.

"Yeah, girl. Get on out of here. It'll still be here tomorrow." He wasn't used to being the one in charge of schedules and bandmembers. Usually, Kevin just told them all where to be and how long they were supposed to be there, and that was that. Nick had been thinking lately that he really hadn't given Kevin enough credit. He was thinking of buying him a gift. Like, maybe, a car.

"Cool. Hang loose, boys." Alicia grinned and high-fived her way around the room, and practically sprinted away, home to her husband. Not that Nick was jealous at all. Nope.

"One more time?" It wasn't really a request, and Nick nodded, resigned. He wanted it to be perfect, and it wasn't yet, and he wasn't sure...

The knock on the door was a welcome distraction, and Nick got up, sure it was Alicia coming back for her music case or sweater or one of the other thousand things she'd forgotten. Instead, he found himself blinking at the affable, smiling face of JC Chasez.

"Nick, dude!" JC reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling him into a one-armed hug, complete with shoulder-thumps, that Nick was too stunned to evade. "Man, I heard you were here, kid, I had to stop by and say hey, you know?" He let go and stood there expectantly, beaming. His hair was completely out of control, huge soft curls all over his head. Nick hadn't seen him in months.

"Oh, um, hey, JC," Nick finally remembered to say. "What's up?"

"I'm just laying down some tracks, vibing with my boys, you know, messing around." JC strolled past Nick and right into the studio, nodding familiarly at Paul. "I heard you were here, I thought hey, Carter's a cool kid, I should stop by and give my regards. How's the album going, man?" JC, Nick reflected, always sounded vaguely stoned. And what the FUCK was he wearing? And yet he managed to look good. Always.

"It's good," he said shortly, following JC back to the mixing board, completely unsure what was going on here but unable to stop staring at the...pink? fuscia? magenta? capri pants JC was wearing with flip flops and a Hello Kitty t-shirt, two sizes too small. "It's going really well, um, we're just mixing the first single, getting it ready to release. Just a little more tweaking. The album's almost done." Saying that still gave him a small shock. HIS album. Done.

"Wow. Wow. That is so huge." JC was beaming at him, smiling hugely with his eyes scrunched up small, and Nick found himself grinning back, helplessly. JC was just too freakin' pretty.

"Yeah, man. Yeah. Thanks. It's great." Understatement of the year, but Nick couldn't really find the words to express the total amazing coolness of this.

"So, let's hear it!" JC was rocking on his toes, eager anticipation radiating from him. "Play that tune, Carter, let me hear the greatness. Oh." He went still. "Unless you're one of those people that doesn't like to show shit off until it's totally done, I'd completely understand, if so, I mean, I'd be disappointed and stuff, but-"

"No, no." Nick grinned. "It's cool. Hit it, Paul."

Paul, who had been ignoring the annoying popstars in his presence, rolled his eyes and hit a button. The guitar riff, still a little smoother than Nick would like, started, and JC closed his eyes and started nodding along. Nick mouthed the words as his own voice picked up the first verse, and by the end of the song, he was singing quietly. JC was still nodding thoughtfully, his eyes open.

"You know, that's really good! Your voice, man, yeah!" Nick wasn't sure if he should be pleased or insulted at JC's--was he surprised?--praise, but the thought was lost quickly as JC drifted over to Paul's side, peering at the mixing board. "Hey, have you thought about adding kind of a...yeah, maybe that beat." Paul pressed play again, and JC fiddled with some settings, and suddenly there was a new straight 4/4 drumbeat under the syncopated bass and guitar sounds. Nick raised his eyebrows. Huh?

"No, maybe pick up the tempo again." JC was leaning over the board now, fingers flying as he selected different faders and tracks, and Paul was nodding, popping more master tapes into slots, and Nick was standing behind them, lost. He'd heard rumors of JC's intensity in the studio, but this was someone he didn't even recognize, thrumming with energy and completely focused, his eyes narrow and assessing.

"JC?" This was starting to sound like a dance remix. Interesting, yes, but not exactly what he was- "JC, hey, Paul?"

It was like he wasn't even there. He reached out and patted JC's shoulder tentatively; he knew the guy, sure, but only casually, and he wasn't going to presume on personal space.

"Hang on," JC said absently, not even looking around. "Hey, yeah!" There was a high synthesizer sound weaving into the mix now, and JC clapped once, laughing, before going back to his mixing.

Nick took a deep breath. Then one more. Then quietly left the room, cell phone in hand before the door had even closed behind him. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, blessedly free of the Space Club Trax Supertrance Mix of Help Me, and dialed.

"Whassssuuuuuuuup?" Nick contemplated hanging up there and then, but really, he needed some help.

"Timberlake, you fucking poser. Quit that shit, it was old three years ago."

"Hey, it's Carter! Just the man to be calling other people posers." It sounded like he was chewing something, and Nick grimaced at the disgusting sound.

"Believe me, I wouldn't be calling you at all, but I need you to come down to Image and retrieve your pet freak."

"Huh?" Justin was clearly confused. "But Chris is in Santa Fe."

"I can't believe I have to specify which freak I'm talking about with you."

"Those who live in glass tour buses with AJ McLean shouldn't throw stones," Justin answered placidly, finally--finally!--swallowing. "I guess you mean JC?"

"YES I mean JC!" Nick realized he was practically shouting, and lowered his voice. "He showed up, said hello, and then kidnapped my engineer and started turning my first single into a dance mix. Get down here and take him away before I kill him."

Justin started laughing. Nick added his name to the to-be-killed list, and started thinking up creative ways to get it done. "Oh my god, that's the funniest thing I've heard in weeks!" he eventually chortled, and Nick sighed, long-suffering.

"Yeah, ha-fucking-ha, now call him up or get your ass over here. Now, if it's not too much trouble."

"Oh, dude." Justin's laugh finally faded out, except for a few hiccups. "Dude, sorry, no can do."

"What? Call him, you fucknut, I'm sure you can find time in your busy schedule, and he ain't listening to me."

"No, no, I can't. We're not talking right now."

"What?" Justin didn't sound upset, but that still didn't seem right. Those Syncers were always attached at the hip.

"Well, I'm recording, and he's recording, and he thinks that if we talk we'll influence each others' creative muses. Or something like that. Man, I don't know, but I can't call him." To his credit, even Justin seemed a little exasperated by this revelation.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"Nope. Sorry, princess, you're on your own." Justin took another bite of whatever it was, and Nick almost hung up on him. SO nasty.

"So how am I supposed to get rid of him?" JC had looked firmly settled in. Immovable, really.

"He's in the actual studio? Oh man, I dunno. Usually he doesn't leave until he's hungry, or falls asleep, or has a chance to get laid. Hey. Got any lesbian friends you could call to lure him out? C loves lesbians. Or you could offer to fuck him." Justin chewed and sniggered, amused by his own wit.

"You know, this is why we broke up, you nasty inconsiderate little shit." Nick was proud of the evenness of his voice.

"No, we broke up because YOU have no sense of humor! Plus you're boring." Justin's tone had sharpened, but at least he'd stopped slobbering on his food into the phone.

"We broke up because you were drooling on Joey all the time! Slut!" Nick shouted. This was familiar and comforting ground to cover.

"Don't you call me a slut, Mr. Oh-Howie-Let-Me-Be-Your-Raincoat." Justin was shouting too. "I hope JC turns your entire album into bad eurohouse!"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you back!"

"You wish!"

"HAH!"

Click.

Nick checked his watch right away. Thirty minutes, and he was pretty sure it was his turn to call Justin for the apologies. He wondered if Justin would be up for hitting that new Cuban place on Ventura for dinner. Maybe Thursday. If he'd managed to pry JC away and get any work done by then. He sighed, and peeked back into the mixing room.

JC was still bent over the console, speaking urgently with Paul nodding and listening to whatever he was saying, but his slim hips were twitching to the beat, and Nick couldn't hold in a grin. From behind, pink pants and huge hair and slender body, JC looked just like a classic Valley Girl. A very intense one. Who was reaching...for Nick's...master tape...

Nick leapt into action, interposing his body between JC and the mixing board, thanking god for once that he'd been built along football player, not ballet dancer, lines. He gave JC his most winning smile, and snatched the tape out of his hand.

"Dude." JC was frowning at him, reaching for the tape, and Nick held it out of his reach. "I was in the middle of doing something with that!"

"Yes, and I don't want you to. Don't you have your own shit to go play with? People to see, stuff to do?"

"No, they left," JC said impatiently, reaching for Nick's hand and then giving up before he could look too silly. "You've gotta hear this, we did a whole backbeat one...ANDtwo thing on the chorus, it's killer, man."

"Aren't you hungry?" Nick was getting desperate here. He could hear Paul snickering, the traitor. If he knew what was good for him he'd have an untouched copy somewhere...

"Kind of, but really, this is more important." JC tried a grab, and failed, and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. Nick was NOT looking at the long line of his throat, somehow indignant, or the irritated tilt of his chin. Or the way his lips- "This is art, dawg, you can't stand in the way of art."

"This is *my* art, JC, not yours. Um. Lesbians?" Nick was getting more desperate. JC's eyes widened, but he didn't budge, and he looked at Nick suspiciously.

"Where?"

"Um. Outside. Away from here. Someplace else?" By this point Nick had the tape at full arm's length over his head, well out of JC's reach.

"Right, Carter. Give the tape, c'mon, it's just a little tweaking. You'll love it, it's all...it's super edgy and totally *now*, it'll blow your socks off." JC extended an arm for the tape, and his shirt pulled up, showing a sliver of smooth pale skin just at his waist, and-

"JC, if you leave the tape alone I'll give you the blowjob of your life and then take you out to dinner with at least one pair of lesbians."

JC's arm dropped. There was silence in the room.

"Well, I think I hear my mother calling me..." Paul bolted up out of his chair and headed for the door, laughing the whole way. One more name for Nick's dead list.

"You've been talking to Justin." It wasn't a question, and JC was smiling a little, looking down at the floor.

"Possibly, a little," Nick confessed, warily lowering his arm. It was starting to hurt from being held up there anyway.

"Sorry, man. It's just." JC's hands waved a little, then pushed his hair back from his forehead, an apologetic gesture. "I get kind of carried away, sometimes. Didn't mean to, like, hijack your recording time or anything."

"No, it's cool." Nick always felt bad when people apologized to him. "You were flowing, I get it. No big deal, man, it was cool to see."

"Yeah, yeah." JC shook his head, still smiling. "I guess I'm just used to having a couple more collaborators. Other peoples' stuff to mess with, you know? Sorry."

"Quit apologizing." Nick flipped the tape to a table, and leaned back against the board, just enjoying the chance to watch JC without a thousand people around. He was just absurdly beautiful. "I'm not pissed, you shouldn't be sorry."

"Oh, I see." That wasn't a smile, it was a wicked grin. "So you were just looking for an excuse to proposition me and take me to dinner with ladies who like ladies?"

Nick giggled. He couldn't help it. "Maybe. You never know. Depends on what your answer is." He was almost giddy; he was flirting, and JC was flirting back. Unless he was really, really wrong.

"Oh, I don't know." JC lifted his shoulders and let them fall, looking up at Nick through ridiculously long eyelashes. "Which restaurant?"

Nick wasn't wrong. And he was still laughing when JC came.

*end*


End file.
